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fVisDOM Court 



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HENRY SETON MERRIMAN c'l^t^. 



STEPHEN G. TALLENTYRE cjWvJ^ 



^/r// ILLUSTRATIONS 

Bf B. COURBOIN. 



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DODD, M£^D &■ CO /;£AF YORK 

I ' ^7i9/. /SHHRS MDCCCKCIU 



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Copyright, 1893, 

BV 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 
[All rights reserved.] 



eURH PHINTING MOUSE, Ntw YORK. 





ON A BED OF 
SICKNESS 



" IV hen the sound of the grht ding is low." 

One of us has been ill. We know now that it is 
better to be ill if there is a good lock on the 
door, than to hale within hail, so to speak, of 
one's relatives. We went to church — that is 
how it came about — although we have to a cer- 
tain extent refrained from publishing this fact, 
and we both caught cold. One cold was thrown 
off — literally thrown off — by a series of most 
heartrending and collar-bursting sneezes. The 
other took a downward course, and fixed its 
fancy upon the bronchial tubes. In the middle 
of the night the victim awoke gasping and an- 
nounced his intention of forthwith quitting this 
vale of trouble. We administered whisky — we 
always do ; and rubbed the affected throat with 
top-tjoot varnish because it smelt like Elliman's 



2 FROM WISDOM COURT 

Embrocation. The remainder of the night was 
somewhat disturbed. 

In the morning we called in a friend — house- 
surgeon in a neighbouring hospital. This prom- 
ising physician owed one of us a trifle, and we 
thought it expedient to work off the debt in ad- 
vice, and, if possible, medicine. He looked 
grave, and placed his ear against the victim's 
chest, while he made him repeat inane observa- 
tions, such as " Ninety-nine !" " Ah !" " One, 
two, three, four !" We laughed openly at these 
proceedings. We knew this house-surgeon too 
well to be at all impressed by the tricks of his 
trade. 

After much listening and considerable tap- 
ping the doctor made sundry statements of a 
depressing nature, and decreed poultices, a fire 
in the bedroom, and no stimulants. Moreover, 
he would not ^ilow the patient to smoke. He 
spoke quite plainly in the sick man's hearing 
and concealed none of his thoughts. 

The result was that when he had departed we 
found ourselves face to face with a serious ill- 
ness. After considerable deliberation we came 
to the conclusion that the street must be strewed 
witli tan in front of the house. It was a narrow 
street, where no cabs ever passed, because it led 
nowhere except into a legal-minded court ; but 



ON A BED OF SICKNESS 3 

we had always understood that tan was spread 
upon the roadway in front of the house contain- 
ing a bed of sickness. Neither of us knew 
where to buy tan ; it was not in the Price List 
of the Civil Service Stores, and Walker's Dic- 
tionary was silent on the subject. We wrote to 
an enterprising tradesman in Westbourne Grove, 
who apparently mis-read our communication, for 
he replied next day giving an estimate for the 
maintenance of one brougham-horse, in weekly 
instalments. We were subsequently compelled 
to give up the tan. 

For a whole week the dire sickness raged un- 
known to our relatives, but at the" end of that 
time the news leaked out, owing, it is believed, 
to an invitation to a family dinner-party having 
been quietly ignored. We immediately received 
from the seven most useless female relatives we 
jointly possessed, seven offers of help. Two of 
them were so urgent that they called for prompt 
action. We were compelled to telegraph per- 
versions of the truth. Others were treated by 
post. Nevertheless, one pliilanthropist arrived 
next day in a cab, with luggage for a month and 
a small (4^d.) jar of Beef Extract for the pa- 
tient. There was a lamentable scene on the 
front door-step between a man with a pipe in 
his mouth and an elderly lady with an umlirella, 



4 FROM WISDOM COURT 

two band-boxes and a bronchitis-kettle in her 
hand. We consented to add the bronchitis-ket- 
tle to our collection, but rejected all offers of 
personal assistance. Knowing our medical at- 
tendant as we did, and being intensely conscious 
of the trifling monetary matter which bound 
him body and soul to us, we had no compunc- 
tion in risking his reputation. We credited him 
with a marvellous minuteness of observation, a 
deep and searching grasp of the situation. The 
patient was, according to our version of .^scu- 
lapius, on no account to see any one, more espe- 
cially female relatives. His condition was such 
that the joy of meeting with a dear aunt might 
produce the gravest symptoms. " Not yet," we 
said with but indifferently concealed feeling ; 
" when he is a little stronger — when the crisis is 
over." We hinted mysteriously at assistance 
from the hospital, and tied up the door-knocker 
with an old sock in a manner which we deemed 
intensely professional. 

In default of personal assistance, our relatives 
then took to showering upon us advice in an 
epistolary form. This assumed such gigantic 
proportions that the postman concluded (as we 
ultimately learned) that we were either engaged 
to be married, or that some departed one had 
remembered us handsomely. 



ON A BED OF SICKNESS 5 

The postman, however, was not the only suf- 
ferer. The London Parcels Delivery man also 
found himself under a stress of work. By this 
means we received : four wooden constructions 
which the doctor informed us had been in use 
among the ancients as invalid tables ; two cane- 
work articles for propping up something — possi- 
bly the patient — in bed ; five china cups with 
half a lid and a long spout ; two medicine 
glasses ; three india rubber air-cushions ; one 
small hand-bell, and a broken thermometer. 
These, as far as we can recollect, with the 
trifling exception of nine bronchitis-kettles with 
an abnormal development of spout, were all that 
we received in the way of furniture or proper- 
ties. 

Some kind folk — bless them — sent us more 
practical souvenirs. Thus, one dear old lady 
despatched every third day a box containing jel- 
lies, soups, eggs, and grapes. This was as it 
were a regular supply, and in addition we had 
at odd times other contributions. The patient 
appreciated this form of philanthropy, and the 
nurse waxed so fat that he is not in training to this 
day. The best of this relative (and she a distant 
one) was that she gave us no advice except that 
of the despatch of a box. She wrote postcards 
— heaven shine upon her old head ! — " Dear II., 



6 FROM WISDOM COURT 

Have sent off to-day a small box containing 
hare-soup, eggs, and a few grapes. Mind, send 
back the empties." 

Others sent us a lot of advice and very little 
soup — no eggs, and never a grape. Moreover, 
the advice was of such a nature as to be a posi- 
tive insult not only to the recipient, but to the 
university which had bestowed some small 
honours upon him. We append an example or 
two. 

Dear H., — As cook's second cousin died of 
bronchitis two years ago, I have thought that 
you might be glad to have a few practical hints 
as to nursing poor Mr. T. You must ensure a 
high and even temperature in the room. This 
is done by keeping up a good fire. On no ac- 
count open the window, especially if there is an 
east wind. The doctor ( I have not heard his 
name before) will no doubt see to medicines ; 
but I am told that lemon-juice with sugar and 
hot water is an excellent thing in cases where 
medicine is not obtainable. It is essential that 
the patient be kept quiet, and if Aunt Eliza 
should offer to go and help you I should make 
her understand once for all tliat you can manage 
without her. 

If there is anyllnng /can do let me know ; 



ON A BED OF SICKNESS 7 

I shall be most happy to come at a moment's 
notice and take entire charge. I can easily leave 
home just now as they are putting a new boiler 
in the kitchen. Write to me every two days. — 
Your affectionate great aunt, Janet." 

" My dear H., — I had diphtheria when a boy, 
so know all about it. Some people say it is in- 
fectious, but I don't believe them ; nevertheless 
you may as well telegraph poor T.'s progress 
instead of wilting, as it is safer. If I were you 
I should have a trained nurse. Keep the room 
well aired, and pay your way as you go along. 
No doubt you have something laid by for a rainy 
day. When next in town I shall let you know. 
You can meet me at the station, as I should like 
a chat with you. — Your affectionate uncle, 

Joseph." 

Another uncle despatched unto us a tele- 
graphic note informing us that he had given in- 
structions to a person called Barkle to pack up 
a dozen of port for us. We laid that port down 
— started a cellar as it were — but we are of too 
anxious a disposition for a cellar. We sampled 
the wine so often, just to mark its progress tow- 
ard maturity, that there is now none of it left. 

It was onlv when our medical adviser told us 



8 FROM WISDOM COURT 

that the patient was convalescent that we in- 
formed him of our intention to cancel that trifling 
debt dating two Derby days back. 

"All right," he said. "We'll call it quits; 
but I am coming in every other night to take 
duty. A fellow cannot nurse night and day for 
three weeks without losing his hold a little bit, 
and I don't want to have you on my hands as 
well." 



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OJV 

MATRIMONY 

" Be not confident in 
a plain way." 

This is a large 
subject — so large 
^-^ that the most daring can- 
not but approach it with 
misgiving. In order to demonstrate that we ad- 
vance with caution we shall begin before the 
beginning, and end, so to speak, before we have 
begun. 

It is to the many, the light-hearted, the light- 
footed, the youthful, that the sapient remarks 
hereinafter set forth are more particularly ad- 
dressed, in the full and comforting assurance 
that they will be in no wise heeded. It is, in 
fact, to the young men and maidens who look 
forward to mtitrimony as the aim and end of 
their existence that we would throw out a few 



lO FROM WISDOM COURT 

warning notes like the call of a steamer's whistle 
proceeding" cautiously in a fog. 

To the innocent maiden therefore, who alter- 
nately urges on and presses back the catastrophe 
trembling on the lips of some aspiring swain, we 
would say : Go and sit down quietly in some 
matter-of-fact place — say the bath-room. Have 
nothing to do with flickering fires in the twi- 
light hours, or shimmering moonlight. Go 
therefore, to the bath-room and, sitting quietly 
upon the washed-out and forlorn chair you will 
find there, think ! 

Think whether he would be entirely satisfac- 
tory at a ball and at a funeral, at a wedding (not 
his own, for that would be expecting too much) 
and at a christening. Think whether he would 
be likely to make an idiot of himself at any of 
these functions. Make quite sure of these points 
before you go any further. Then, given a satis- 
factory result to your questions — satisfactory 
that is to your own mind, for it does not matter 
about other people — you may go on to other 
matters. You may meditate upon his personal 
appearance. Reflect that his hair will not al- 
ways be tidy. Contemplate liim in your mind's 
e)^e with a smut upon his countenance, and see 
what he looks like then. Remember that he 
looks at himself in the hall glass before entering 



ON MATRIMONY II 

the drawing-room, and do not forget that in his 
pilgrimage through life he may come to you 
through a hall where there is no looking-glass. 
Put him, like the proverbial beggar on horse- 
back — mentally of course — and watch the result. 
In the same manner place an oar within his 
grasp, or the sheet and tiller, or a gun, strap 
skates upon his feet, upset him out of a boat if 
you like. If he goes through all these ordeals 
satisfactorily, if you are sure that in no one case 
you need to feel too much ashamed of him, if 
above all you need not fear for his dignity in 
the presence of other men, then — then — you 
may think about // a second time. 

To the young man (in the spring) we would 
say : Cultivate the friendship of her brother. 
There is an admirable candour about a brother 
which is likely to dispel the many illusions that 
arise from delicate evening dresses, semi-illu- 
minated conservatories and gaslight generally. 
There is no gaslight about a brother. He will 
give you an unbiased opinion as to Angelina's 
temper. We should not be surprised were he to 
volunteer details of a domestic nature as to the 
size of her shoes and the difficulties she encoun- 
ters in making the ends of her waistband and 
her dress allowance meet. We would suggest 
gently that the art of waltzing has remarkably 



12 FROM WISDOM COURT 

little to do with life after matrimony, and that 
it is a mistake to attach too great importance to 
a proficiency in that pleasant exercise. We 
would also venture to shrug the shoulder of 
scepticism at the advice tendered by former 
writers on this subject as to fixing the choice 
upon one who is domesticated and a good house- 
keeper, with a corner in her heart for a recipe. 
All that will come if you play your part respect- 
ably. 

It is possible to be too good a housekeeper. 
Some women seem to be under the impression 
that their husbands are one large — what shall 
we say ? — waistcoat. If you are fond of horses 
and all that appertains thereto it is worth while 
noting that Angelina is afraid to approach within 
a dozen yards of any one leg of a horse. If you 
love the country, the fact that the lady you pro- 
pose proposing: to is never happy off the pave- 
ment, is not without its value. Of course, these 
trifling differences are of no consequence to love 
if it be spelled with a capital L. The lady-novel- 
ist has told us so. We would merely suggest 
that they are worthy of a little attention in pass- 
ing. Beware of Glamour — fight against it — 
cast it from you as you would a cheap brand of 
Champagne. After indulging in either, one is 
apt to wake up with a head and without a heart. 



ON MATRIMONY 1 3 

If, for instance, you are inwardly aware that 
Angelina's nose is slightly out of the perpen- 
dicular, do not persuade yourself that it is 
straight. It is infinitely better to accept her 
and her nose as you find them — remembering 
that your own chin recedes with rather more 
precipitation than was admired in old Athens. 
If the peerless one has a little, a very little fault 
in her character, do not pretend that it does not 
exist. Look it boldly in the face and meditate 
over it. Consider whether you will be able to 
stand it with equanimity during the years of a 
future which extends — goodness knows whither. 
If you find that you cannot stand it, be very 
wary ; for that means that some day you will 
not be able to stand Angelina. 

Remember that you take her for better and 
for worse, and do try to realize that there is in 
most lives a good deal more of the worse than of 
the better. In fact, it would be expedient to re- 
peat to yourself that you are taking her for the 
worse — the better is hardly worth bringing into 
account. 

Finally, we would take you both aside to a 
quiet corner of the room, and there we would 
say : 

Bless you ! Pay no heed to us, nor to any 
one in the world, so long as you are quite sure 



14 FROM WISDOM COURT 

of yourselves and of each other. But be careful 
that you are quite sure. You are taking a huge 
step in life, but life is not a stationary pastime. 
One must step forward sometimes, and it is bet- 
ter to make a good honest stride than to sneak 
tremblingly along with faltering feet. You will 
have a little sunshine and a vast quantity of 
shadow, but the sunshine will be brighter if you 
share it, the shadow less dense if you walk hand 
in hand through it. Troubles will come, big 
ones and little ones. Please God certain little 
troubles will arrive that patter about the house 
with tiny feet, making music as they go. There 
will be the sound of uncertain crooning voices 
on the stairs, and the sound will be very elo- 
quent to your ears. Yes ! go on and prosper. 
And let us know the date. We have a pair of 
blue china candlesticks presented to us on an 
auspicious occasion some years ago by a well- 
meaning but misguided paternal aunt. We al- 
ways thought they would come in somehow. 
P.S. — Do not furnish on the hire system. 



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ON THE POSTCARD 

" The heart of fools is in iJieir 
mouth, but the month of the zuise 
is in their heart." 



Since the invention of the postcard we have 
confined ourselves entirely to this mode of cor- 
respondence. We think with Shakespeare, that 
" brevity is the soul of wit," and are of the more 
original opinion that it is the cement of friend- 
ship and the safeguard of affection. What a 
vast amount of heart-burning and wounded feel- 
ing this custom of ours has saved our friends ! 
When we take our holiday no one expects vo- 
luminous accounts of our doings, and, so far 
fmm being offended at the occasional card of 
three lines, it delights them because they know 



l6 FROM WISDOM COURT 

we never write a letter to any one. We enjoy 
our day's shooting without the heavy cloud over- 
hanging us of that letter to be written when we 
are tired and drowsy in the evening. When 
other people are scribbling excitedly to catch the 
post, with pens peculiar to a remote Highland 
inn, we smoke, with our legs on the mantel- 
piece, and that restfulness of mind particularly 
engendered by the fact that the way of peace is 
far from our companions. For us there is never 
a haunting vision of perturbed faces and anxious 
spirits, w^hen we have forgotten to write on a 
certain day or omitted to inquire at what time 
the post goes out. We never promise even our 
postcards. We take care that they shall not only 
be a delight but also a delightful surprise. 

When other people are getting warm and dis- 
tracted over the problem of how to express sym- 
pathy with a fjiend whose uncle is dead, and has 
left him his money, we have calmly indited and 
posted a card — "Just heard your news. Feel 
much for you in every way," which pleases that 
friend and causes him to say that, though we 
have fallen into that strange habit of only writ- 
ing postcards, we are as kind-hearted and sym- 
pathetic as any fellow he knows. 

When our cousin, who emigrated to Australia 
before we had nii^dc his acquaintance, losvS his 



ON THE POSTCARD 1 7 

mother-in-law in tlie back-woods, our admirable 
postcard system obviates the necessity of search- 
ing for Scripture texts to express sorrow which 
we don't and can't feel, and to offer him con- 
solation which he doesn't want. There would 
be something profane in a text on a postcard, 
especially on a foreign postcard. 

When we are travelling abroad, let us say in 
Switzerland, no one expects us to write intelli- 
gently on the places we visit, or to be eloquent 
about the scenery. Intelligence would be out 
of place and there is no room for eloquence. 

" Lausanne. Motel Mal Sain. 
" Arrived here. Send tin Keating by return," 

amply satisfies, we find, the most loving and 
anxious of our rekitives whom we have educated 
up to our short, sweet mode of correspondence. 
How will our future son and heir bless this 
custom of ours when we receive a report from 
Eton, "Good abilities but incorrigibly idle." ! 
For it is not dignified to be very wrathful upon 
a card which the page-boy is certain to peruse 
on his way to the pillar-box and upon which the 
postal authorities of our native village will com- 
ment with winks and smiles. How much more 
will this same <,on an(l heir call down benedic- 



1 8 FROM WISDOM COURT 

tions on our habit when he outstrips his aUow- 
ance at college. A postcard renders sound ad- 
vice impossible and is not large enough to allow 
of an awful and graphic picture representing the 
final ruin of the debtor. 

We own there are difiiculties in the way of 
making love in this manner. But they are not 
insurmountable. We should think poorly of a 
young lady who could not read between the 
lines, even the lines of a postcard. Besides, 
English is not a universal tongue. There are 
other languages in which beautiful sentiments 
may be expressed without pandering to the vul- 
gar curiosity of the i)Ostman, or gratifying the 
servant's thirst for information. 

Indeed, there are reasons why, in affairs of 
the heart, the postcard system is especially to 
be commended. It may be said to be prac- 
tically invaluable to young ladies who are always 
in love, but not always with the same person. 

One of us had in his desk for a long while a 
packet of letters, in an agitated feminine hand- 
writing. There was an Arrangement announced 
in the Fashionable Intelligence of our newspaper 
one morning, and the same evening, over the 
meditative pipe, we watched those ladylike com- 
munications turn lo ashes on tlieir funeral ])ilc. 
The pretty writer has less cause than many peo- 



ON THE POSTCARD I9 

pie to wish she had confined herself to the sweet 
simplicity of " one side only." 

Neither has the pleasure we have derived from 
the receipt of letters been very great. We pre- 
fer postcards. Persons in pecuniary embarrass- 
ment could not, we think, on a card, stir our 
hearts to such practical sympathy as they some- 
times do in a letter. A tailor, with a soul full 
of righteous indignation, would be much less 
impressive. 

We should regard our maiden aunts who, as 
they say, " chat" with us through the post, with 
a far greater warmth of affection if they com- 
pressed their chatting- — it might be done easily, 
and with no particular loss to any one— on to a 
postcard. 

Neither do we receive with especial hilarity 
long communications from friends abroad. 
There is a poorness about the paper, and a sug- 
gestion all over it of the pens having caught it, 
not to mention an illegibility about the writing, 
which aggravate us. We are especially tried if 
these correspondents are fond of describing the 
places they visit and of giving us a sort of epit- 
ome of the Guide Book, concerning their his- 
tory. Last year, two cousins, young and enthu- 
siastic, took a trip to Egypt and the Holy Land, 
from which places they wrote enough letters to 



20 FROM WISDOM COURT 

serve Mrs. Robbem to light our fire with ever 
since. It is only fair to them to say that they 
warned us of their intention before they left. 
" Such wonderfully interesting places !" they 
said. "What a pity you are not coming too ! 
(We did not think so.) But you may rely upon 
us to write and tell you all about them." We 
bore up pretty well under the description of the 
Pyramids and dissertations on Egyptology gen- 
erally. One of us — we took turns — read these 
communications aloud at the breakfast table, 
and when we came to the end — breakfast was a 
very long meal on these occasions — we both said, 
" How extremely interesting," and sighed. But 
when, after hasty descriptions of the warmth of 
the desert, our cousins reached Palestine, their 
letters became altogether too much for us. 

" At 10.30 A.jii. on Tuesday last, we reached 
Aphek, so constantly the scene of contest be- 
tween the Syrians and Israelites. Here, as you 
will remember, Ahab, King of Israel, defeated 
and took prisoner Benhadad, King of Syria. 
The weather continues hot. Ernest drinks noth- 
ing but the light wine of the country. I am a 
water drinker as usual." Now, although we are 
perfectly indifferent as to how much of the light 
wine of the country Ernest drinks, as to whether 
he drinks any, or whether he does not drink at 



ON THE POSTCARD 21 

all, and do not care in the least whether or no 
his brother has given up his stupid ideas on the 
subject of total abstinence, yet we think these 
puerile details infinitely preferable to gratuitous 
information about Aphek. We don t remember 
anything about it and if we did we should want 
information on the subject even less than we do 
at present. Now how much better would it 
have been for us if our cousins had always 
confined themselves to the cheap brevity of the 
postcard ! 

We each have a packet of letters in our desks 
now — almost the only ones we keep — which we 
don't remember having considered particularly 
valuable at the time we received them. Neither 
has seen the other's packet, but the contents of 
each are probably much alike. " The last re- 
port was dreadfully bad and Papa was very 
much vexed. Mary has made another of those 
cakes, and she trusts the jam-pots won't be 
broken in the post. The east wind is very 
treacherous, so pray don't leave off your great- 
coat, and you ivill try to be always a good 
boy, &c." 

On the whole, though we do not say so even 
to each other, we consider these letters — and 
such as these — may be safely allowed to form 



12 FROM WISDOM COURT 

an exception to our admirable postcard rule. 
But we beg to inform everybody that it is the 
only one we allow. 




"■^^^ 



ON THE SEA 



" There is society, cohere none intrudes. 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar." 

So:me people look upon the sea with the eye of 
disapproval. They take it quite seriously to be 
an evil which is not even necessary, for one can- 
not drink it, and like a much-advertised com- 
modity of the day, it won't wash clothes. They 
consider it in the light of a let and hindrance 
standing literally in the way — between them and 
Paris, not to mention other pleasant places. 
They connect it with the smell of warm engine- 
oil — the throb of the screw and the voice of the 



24 FROM WISDOM COURT 

purser asking for tickets when all their thoughts 
are centred on their inner persons. But the 
sea is a power in the world. The sea is the mis- 
tress of more hearts than ever was Helen of 
Troy. She is a siren who takes the best years 
of a man's life, and will not let him go, even 
when he is old and worn out. These hoary 
lovers may be seen hanging around her skirts at 
every port in the world, and on all coasts in the 
universe. They still live on her smile or frown, 
and can talk of nothing else. They are not 
jealous, for her smile embraces them all, and 
they have all known her frown. The aggressive 
love of Scotchmen and Germans for their native 
land is as nothing compared to the lov^e of a 
sailor for the sea. What is the sound of the 
pibroch or the taste of Ichcnoiirst compared to 
the smell of tar ? The smell of tar has a singu- 
lar power over some of us. It lifts our feet from 
the pavement and sets them on the reeling deck. 
It transforms the roar of street traffic into that 
long, long duet, where the wind sings tenor 
through the rigging to the sweet low baritone of 
the sea ; and the shuffling of feet on the wet 
stones is naught else than the surge of the re- 
ceding wave beneath the lee quarter. All 
around us we see again the grey-green of 
troubled ocean, the curling crests ; the shadowy 



ON THE SEA 25 

trough, and overhead the dense, impenetrable 
grey of a gale sky, where the cynic gull swoops 
down before the screaming wind only to rise 
again facing it with a defiant cry. And the 
street empties suddenly— it is the forsaken deck, 
for the steward is snug in his galley amidships, 
with his half-door bolted ; and the watch is 
crouching forrard at the lee-side of the deck- 
house. The deck is not only wet but the water 
is running from side to side four inches deep ; 
for the green seas plump over the weather rail 
as fast as the scuppers clear her. The green 
paint of the winch, and the bright red of the 
fresh-water pump stand out in strong relief 
against the universal dulness, and the white base 
of the mainmast is washed very clean except for 
a runnet or two df rust. The slack of the fore- 
top-gallant lee brace has been carelessly coiled 
over the belaying-pin ; for the end has fallen 
and washes lazily from side to side as she rolls. 

On the quarter-deck the skipper and the sec- 
ond mate stand quite still, with their booted 
legs set well apart, on either side of the wheel, 
where the best man is on his best behaviour. It 
is exercise enough to stand quite still when she 
is "running before it," even with life-lines 
stretched fore and aft. 

Something has broken adrift down below and 



26 FROM WISDOM COURT 

thumps sullenly as the vessel rolls. No — stay- — 
is it so ? Of course not. It is the throb of a 
printino^ press in a cellar beneath the pavement, 
and the smell of tar came from a passing coal 
cart after all. 



w\ 



ON 




VISITORS 



"Some thereby have entertained angels unaivares." 

We do not refer to the afternoon visitor who 
can be dismissed with a cup of tepid tea and a 
few disparaging remarks on the weather, but to 
that visitor who precurses his coming by four 
letters and six postcards (changing the da}^ of 
his arrival each time), and who finally bursts 
upon us, with a portmanteau, a Gladstone bag, 
and unlimited expectations of enjoying himself. 
Our earliest experiences of the visitor genus 
were other youthful (extremely youthful) Wack- 
emtonians whom we were allowed to bring back 
with us to spend the holidays. We remember 
that their visits were usually mucii shorter than 
had originally been intended, for after we had 



28 FROM WISDOM COURT 

unitedly reduced our sisters to tears and com- 
plaints, broken all the available furniture, and 
brought the cook to the verge of hysterics, 
there really seemed nothing to do but to fall 
upon each other and settle old scores by bloody 
battles. So our mammas corresponded, and the 
visitor went home three weeks earlier than had 
been arranged. 

Later on, the Captain of the Wackemton first 
eleven, or some other equally great hero, some- 
times condescended to pay us a short visit. We 
took care, of course, to impress upon our par- 
ents and sisters what a deep honour was being 
conferred upon them. We abjured tea in the 
schoolroom, while games with our small brothers 
and " gins" for the servants were as if they had 
never been. If our sisters were pretty enough, 
the great man sometimes condescended to ac- 
cept their photographs, and they always made a 
point of wearing their best dresses during his 
stay with us. We think on recalling these 
visits, it must have been slightly wearisome to 
have been so continually on such dignified be- 
haviour. We can recollect heaving a faint sigh, 
not entirely of sorrow, when the last glimpses of 
a certain remarkable checked overcoat disap- 
peared in the dogcart at the turn of the drive. 

Our sisters, of course, have their friends to stay 



ON VISITORS 29 

also. At one period of our lives we remember 
hating these ladylike visitors with a fierce and 
active hatred. We recollect pulling their hair 
surreptitiously and melting their wax dolls in 
front of the nursery fire. At a later stage, we 
fell in love with them, regularly and with them 
all, impartially. We did not mind if they were 
plain or beautiful, and we think they accommo- 
dated themselves to our sticky embraces really 
wonderfully. We must have been a perfect god- 
send to our sisters, for our love-making enter- 
tained their visitors during the whole of the stay. 
We had a regular plan of action, and can safely 
say we never knew it to fail. We always began 
by squeezing their hands with intense warmth 
and infinite depth of meaning when we bade 
them good-night on the first evening. By the 
next afternoon we were embracing them in the 
shrubberj^ And after that the affair went with 
a swing. We gave them gooseberries, the 
ripest there were, and toffee when we could 
get it, and they cut off pieces of their hair and 
pressed them discreetly into our possession in 
envelopes. We corresponded with them for 
quite a week after they left, and then our affec- 
tion cooled and gave place to another. 

We are now more critical over our sister's 
guests, Wc do not care for impassive young 



30 FROM WISDOM COURT 

ladies, even if they be pretty, who arrive with 
huge arks of boxes, and sit upright all day in 
the drawing-room, waiting to be amused. Our 
three modest carpet dances and our best tennis 
party, on which we had previously reflected with 
no little pride, dwindle into a miserable insig- 
nificance under the calm, crushing glance of a 
young lady who has been used to balls at the 
Metropole, and to garden parties where they 
have Corney Grain. The mild admiration of 
our four nice curates must seem very tame to 
persons who (they tell our sisters so when they 
wax confidential over their hair-brushing at 
night) are accustomed to the very best devotion 
of the very best set in London. 

At intervals, fairly long intervals, our rich 
aunt comes to stay with us. i)i course we make 
no difference for her at all. That is one of the 
very first things our mother tells her when she ar- 
rives. Aunt Bessie will, we know, be content 
to take us just as we are. Only somehow when 
she is with us we all, quite by chance of course, 
arrive down punctually for the nine o'clock 
breakfast j^erfectly fresh and smiling. Whereas 
there certainly have been occasions (;n which 
the meal has been dawdled out until ten or half- 
past, and wlien we luive committed the enormity 
of sitting down to it in carpet slippers and an 



ON VISITORS 31 

ancient shooting jacl<et. At lunch, too, the 
cold mutton is relegated to the servants, and we 
eat roast chickens as though we had never fin- 
ished up scraps in our lives. 

Our aunt is of an Evangelical turn of mind, 
and we drive her three miles on Sunday to a 
place of worship where the minister wears a 
black gown and the congregation mumble the 
Thanksgiving after him. We do not so much 
as allude (such is our tact and delicacy of feel- 
ing) to the ornate Anglican service we are wont 
to attend ourselves. 

But it is sometimes more trying to he visitors 
than to have them. We have been waylaid into 
houses where breakfast is at a quarter to eight, 
and in our unsuspecting innocence have been 
beguiled into staying with Spartans who are 
warm when there is no temperature to speak of, 
and who consider bedroom fires an indulgence 
only less iniquitous than drink. 

We have visited serious-minded friends who 
hide away all the profane literature on the Sab- 
bath. We have been asked, for a month, on the 
strength of our character (entirely mythical) as 
a buffoon, to amuse a whole party of dull per- 
sons in a country house. 

We are of the opinion that there is much room 
for reform in the treatment of visitors. Person- 



32 FROM WISDOM COURT 

ally, we seriously object to be constantly fol- 
lowed about by our host and asked in every 
breathing space what we would like to do 7iow. 
We prefer it to be supposed that we are capable 
of spending half an hour by ourselves without 
getting into mischief, or being bored absolutely 
beyond recovery. 

We object, too, to being set apart by our 
hostess to be the particular prey of one particu- 
larly unscrupulous young lady. It may save a 
great deal of trouble to announce at once that 
the plan never answers in our case, and that we 
invariably fall in love with some other girl who 
has been especially designed for some one else. 
It is wonderful what a radiance this other girl 
has shed over some of the (otherwise) dullest 
visits we have ever paid. For her sake we have 
taken a sixty miles journey (in a parliamentary 
train) for the pleasure of a paltry little Saturday 
till Monday visit, and got up by starlight to 
catch the 7.50 back to town. 

But that girl has now left the dullness of that 
remarkably dull country house for ever. We 
still go back there sometimes, as in duty bound, 
and share the depression of those fellow-suffer- 
ers — her parents. If we were sentimental, which 
we are not, we might stride nightly about those 
dark shrubberies where we once wandered with 



ON VISITORS 33 

her, lost in gloomy meditations, and vowing 
vengeance upon our successful rival. 

But the dining-room being much warmer and 
more comfortable, we leave the shrubberies to 
toads and dampness and remember her between 
the puffs of a cigar and our host's rambling 
stories. 




ON LUCK 



^'^ Fortune britn^s in. some boats that arc not steered,' 



Aunt Eliza says that there is no such thing as 
kick, and we invariably agree with her when she 
is present. We have some small expectations 
from Aunt Eliza. 

But when she is not there we admit that luck 
does exist. Our respected relative talks, in a 
hushed voice, of Providence, and when she does 
so we fold our hands and endeavour to look re- 
signed. When she is not there our reception of 
the trifling drawbacks of existence is somewhat 
different. We are not at all resigned, and we 
frequently say : " Blank our luck !" , 



36 FROM WISDOM COURT 

If Aunt Eliza were amenable to reason, or 
within the reach of logic, if likewise, we had no 
expectations, we could convince her in ten min- 
utes that the most important adjunct to life and 
health is luck. No young man, no maiden, nor 
any other type of humanity mentioned in that 
hymn, of which the number and the words have 
for the moment slipped our memory, should be 
without it. 

Luck confers appointments in unlikely places, 
and apportions incomes to the poor and needy. 
Luck glorifies a very common talent into genius, 
and advertises the twaddle of some of our liter- 
ary compeers, who shall be nameless. Luck 
decorates with the Victoria Cross the breast of 
the man who lost his head in action, and was 
too bewildered to run away. Luck loses some 
well-navigated ships at sea, and brings into port 
vessels that be guided by the hand of an ass. 
Luck takes one by the hand and leads him 
through perils by sea and land, while she puts 
out her dainty foot and trips another on his own 
carpeted stair, causing him to break his neck at 
a most inconvenient moment. Luck decides 
which of the two is taken, and which left work- 
ing in the field. 

If there be no such thing as luck, how is it 
that one man falls at a fence, gets up laughing, 



ON LUCK 37 

and bangs his hat into shape again, while an- 
other, falling at the same spot, lies quite still, 
and does not seem to care about his hat nor 
anything else that is his ? If luck does not exist, 
how is it that one woman marries the man she 
loves, and becomes a joyful mother of children, 
while another walks alone through life in the 
darkness of a solitude which is only relieved at 
moments by a flickering gleam of the light that 
might have been ? 

If we are free from the influence of luck, how 
is it that some so distinctly have the roses and 
some the thorns ? This is not an optical delu- 
sion, as the goody-goody people would have us 
believe, but a bare fact. There may be com- 
pensation in the hereafter — we can only hope 
there is — but as for compensation in the present, 
all that we can say is that we have not yet come 
across a person prepared to relinquish the roses 
in order to accept the thorns upon the chance 
of it. 

The thought does not seem to have suggested 
itself to Aunt Eliza that Providence might have 
other things to think about than such a trivial 
item as the temporary happiness or misery of an 
obscure human being. Of course we do not 
mean to insinuate that her weal or woe is a mat- 
ter of indifference to Providence because the 



38 FROM WISDOM COURT 

thought is obviously absurd. She is constantly- 
pointing out to us the prudence and forethought 
of Providence as demonstrated by the (to us 
somewhat trivial) incidents of her own life. She 
once thanked that Power, for instance, for hav- 
ing arranged that she should have the sweeps in 
the house at the precise period when one of us 
fell into a dangerous sickness, enabling her to 
offer, without inconvenience, her services as 
nurse. 

Of course for her it is different, but for our- 
selves, we feel that we are scarcely justified in 
demanding of Providence such a minute care. 
We take it that luck is a handmaiden of Provi- 
dence and are content to recognize her services. 
The Higher Power may look after Aunt Eliza, 
no doubt it does, for her existence is, according 
to her own showing, a matter of immense im- 
portance to the world ; and it is no doubt from 
a sense of duty toward mankind that she takes 
such care of herself. But we think that luck 
has been detailed to look after our more trivial 
existences and, without wishing to be too exact- 
ing, we must say that she is a trifle careless. 
Nay, she is abominably careless. She is sketchy 
and thoughtless. 

To some men she gives abundantly of a bless- 
ing which is absolutely useless to them, and to 



ON LUCK 39 

Others she denies a grain of good fortune by tlie 
aid of which they might attain earthly happi- 
ness. Sometimes she heaps one kindness upon 
another, and when she has led the recipient to 
look upon such gifts as his due, she suddenly 
stays her hand. We cannot, in justice, say that 
she has ever tried this upon us ; she has never 
led us to expect much, and we are always very 
careful to heap praise upon her whenever there 
is the slightest excuse for so doing. We are not 
superstitious, we trust, but we like to keep on 
the blind side of Fate by avoiding the inside of 
ladders, getting up late on Fridiiy morning, 
and, instead of uttering complaint, pretending 
that our lot might be worse. 

Taking it all around we think that luck is kind. 
In such lives as are being lived out in proximity 
to our own, we are of opinion that there is more 
fair weather than foul, more sunshine than 
cloud. 

Personally speaking, we have no cause for 
complaint. But, as for denying the existence of 
luck — as per Aunt Eliza's theory — much as we 
respect that worthy lady (before her face), we 
must be allowed to say one word (behind her 
back), namely, Bosh ! 







UNSELFISHNESS 



" Z!^^ ruling tyrant Self is all ift all." 

There was, once upon a time, a thoroughly un- 
selfish man. He was so confoundedly— no, we 
mean pyofouiidly- — good, that no one suspected 
him of it. He brought virtue to such a pitch of 
perfection that ordinary mortals like ourselves 
sometimes mistook it for vice. He denied him- 
self continuously for the benefit of others ; and 
others accepted his self-denial eagerly — nay, 
they revelled in it, and took mean advantages. 
He only wanted a crooked spine and long white 
fingers with which to perform upon church 
organs at twilight to make him a perfect char- 
acter for a book. 

When there was only one arm-chair, this man 



42 FROM WISDOM COURT 

drew forward a stiff-backed seat for himself, 
leaving the comfortable lounge for whomsoever 
it might concern. Those concerned were at 
first a trifle surprised, for they had moved in 
society and they knew that if you want anything 
in this world it is inexpedient to wait for some 
one to offer it to you. But this feeling of sur- 
prise soon died away and was replaced by a sup- 
position that the unselfish man did not care 
about arm-chairs. This thought comforted the 
semi-virtuous majority of his friends, adding 
slightly to the softness of the seat. In the eyes 
of others, it merely lowered the unselfish one a 
few degrees, as a person in no way competent 
to fight his own battles. In the fulness of time 
it came to be an understood thing that he did 
not appreciate comfort, and that anything was 
good enough for him to sit upon. 

This spirit pervaded all the waking actions of 
this young man, whom we have dragged out 
into world-wide prominence, because we think 
that the simple narrative of his life may serve as 
a lesson to others. In his dreams, we take it, 
he pictured a Paradise where arm-chairs are to 
be found in such abundance that the blessed 
may all sit dcnvn at once. 

He had a busy life, taking it all around ; 
chiefly because he persisted in doing many 



ON UNSELFISHNESS 43 

things which were not, strictly speaking, his 
business ; and for tlie performance of whicli 
other persons were paid a sufficient wage. 
Thus, he continually fetched things for himself, 
negotiating loans between the drawing-room 
and dining-room coal-scuttles, to save the legs 
of the servant — said legs being at the moment 
in a condition of repose upon the kitchen fender, 
while their owner enjoyed a second-rate (to say 
the least of it) novel. Strange to say, this self- 
sacrificing habit gained him no popularity in the 
basement circles. He was merely smiled at ; 
and those servants who had graced noble and 
genteel families opined that he did not know his 
place, drawing therefrom deductions derogatory 
to his ancestral aspirations. 

Another mode of demonstrating unselfishness 
annoyed his servitors exceedingly. He was 
wont to rush to the letter-box at the postman's 
knock merely in order to save the maid the 
trouble of coming upstairs. To carry out this 
virtuous intention he filled the house with un- 
dignified shouts of " All right, Susan." Instead 
of being grateful that damsel very naturally 
concluded that he wanted to spy upon her cor- 
respondence. 

His aunts and other elderly female relatives 
described him as a dear good fellow, and took 



44 FROM WISDOM COURT 

practical means of proving the correctness of 
their judgment. They saddled him with a sort 
of non-commission agency, and became indebt- 
ed to him for trifling sums which they invariably 
paid in stamps. He must have spent a consid- 
erable sum per annum in postage alone, not to 
mention cab fares to distant emporiums such as 
Schoolbreds or Whiteleys, both of which estab- 
lishments these ladies imagined to be in the im- 
mediate vicinity of Wisdom Court, as they al- 
ways asked him "just to run around." They 
never realised that threepence off the shilling 
amounts to as great reduction on the price of a 
sixpenny-book if purchased in their native town, 
as it would if the article were bought in Lon- 
don. 

He was honorary secretary to a dozen charita- 
ble institutions — mark the " honorary," and if 
you do not understand what it means (which is 
just possible) look up its full purport in a dic- 
tionary. If you have not, however, a work of 
tliat description at hand, perhaps you will take 
our word for it, that an honorary secretary is a 
gentleman who receives neither pay nor thanks, 
but only abuse, for services rendered. 

He was an easy victim to designing parsons, 
than whom there is no less scrupulous class of 
men out of gaol. He managed bazaars and sac- 



ON UNSELFISHNESS 45 

rificed the dignity of his lay manhood at Sun- 
day-school tea-fights. 

All this because he thought so little of his own 
feelings and so much of other people's that he 
could not persuade himself to say no. 

He was never married because he could not 
justify himself in asking the young person in 
question to share an income not exceeding six 
hundred pounds per annum. We represented 
to him that, seeing his habits of life, she would 
undoubtedly have the benefit of five-sixths of 
the sum ; but he was firm. He waited for the 
income to increase, and we have reason to be- 
lieve that she waited also. It is just possible 
that she was prepared to share the income such 
as it was, and to take this foolish fanatic as she 
found him. She did not know him as we did — 
not in the same way, at all events. For she 
seemed to see something in him, which, strive 
as we might, we could not catch sight of. They 
are sometimes like that — those young persons. 
They have neither discrimination nor prudence, 
and, to do them justice, they seem to get along 
remarkably well nevertheless 

He is, of course, dead now. It was not likely 
that he should live. He was altogether too 
good to associate with men like ourselves who 
to;j5 up for the; jirm-chair or the odd kidney. 



46 FROM WISDOM COURT 

On his death-bed he apoh)gised to his friends 
for giving them so much trouble. He said that 
he hoped that it would soon be over now, and 
then they need not worry about him any longer. 
He even wanted to see the undertaker himself, 
in order to save others the pain of making cer- 
tain necessary arrangements. But we dissuaded 
him, telling him that he would never trouble us 
again, and that it would be a satisfaction to us 
to perform a slight service which he could not 
depreciate afterward as unnecessary and con- 
ducive to the development of selfish habits. 

We sometimes think that had he been a little 
less angelic, and a trifle more human, we should 
have respected him less when he was living and 
missed him more when dead. 

Nota Bene. — We have deemed it expedient to 
insert this little sketch of a life, essentially illus- 
trative of the noble virtue of unselfishness, in- 
stead of launchi^Hg into vague generalities upon 
the subject as is the custom of other essay writ- 
ers. Is it not the human interest that lends a 
charm and a reality to all abstract things ? Is 
it not the virtuous man we admire, not the vir- 
tues he carries brazened on his brow ? Eh ? 

Nota l>e/u', bene. — That girl married some one 
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